


Awkward Conversation

by Waning_Grace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkwardness, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, M/M, Some angst, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 22:10:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10500447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waning_Grace/pseuds/Waning_Grace
Summary: Valentine's Day is just another day in the life of a hunter... for an angel, however, it's the perfect day to finally express their feelings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: So here it is, my first Dean/Cas fic! While there's no set timetable here to me it feels like it could fit in with the early half of Season 11.

  
When it came to hunting one of the things a hunter learned early on was that death, and monsters, didn’t take holidays and therefore neither did those who hunted them. Which was why early in the morning of Valentine’s Day had found Sam and Dean gearing up the impala to check out what, per the local reports, had sounded like a nest of vampires that had cropped up a few towns over.

“You sure you’re going to be okay here on your own Cas?” Dean asked as he slammed the trunk’s lid down and turned to face the angel, taking note of the other’s pallid complexion and the dark bags under his eyes. It was worrisome to see the angel like this—so down and defeated and far too human-looking—it reminded Dean eerily of the early days of the (first) apocalypse and he hated that there was nothing he could do to help Cas fight this.

“I’ll be fine Dean,” there was a note of irritation in Cas’ voice, and if Dean didn’t know his power wasn’t up to snuff now he would have sworn the angel had been reading his mind because Cas hated to be babied, but there was the barest hint of a smile on his face as well. “You’ll call me if you need anything.” Cas said and used what remained of his power to level that blue-eyed stare of his at Dean.

“We will Cas,” Sam assured him from where he was standing, one hand on the open passenger side door, taking the opportunity to butt in before his brother could say something that could possibly injure the little bit of confidence Cas held in possibly being called for backup. “You should get some rest if you can.”

“I’ll try my best,” the angel assured Sam, giving the man a small yet genuine smile for his concern. While he’d never admit it out loud, especially to either Winchester, there was a small part of Cas that couldn’t help but be comforted by the knowledge that Sam and Dean seemed to care for him. It was with a bit of a lighter heart then that he watched the two hunters climb into the impala and waved as they slowly pulled out of the garage. When he finally couldn’t see them anymore the angel turned to survey the quiet garage spread out before him and let the smile he was still sporting grow wider. Now that they’d finally gone Cas could work on his long-awaited plans…after he was done watching his show on Netflix—they had told him to relax after all. Chuckling softly to himself Cas headed back into the Bunker proper to do just that.

 

~

 

The hunt had turned out to be vampires, all right. It had only taken the majority of the day to settle into a motel, look up a few witnesses, and scour the local hospital before Dean and Sam found themselves neck deep in blood as they fought their way through what had turned out to be a nest of vampires living in an abandoned house on the outskirts of town. Dean, for one, was completely enjoying himself; it had been a long damn time since they’d had the luxury to hunt something as simple as a few vampires and he wasn’t going to let the opportunity go to waste. “Hey Sammy!” He called, holding up one of the dead vamp’s still dripping head in his brother’s direction, “Wanna be my Valentine?”

“Dean! Eww!” For a guy who was just as equally covered in blood as his brother was, Sam didn’t fail to whip out one of his best bitch-face in rebuttal to Dean’s joke. He knew Dean was having fun but there was blood dripping off his hair going down his neck and frankly the only thing Sam wanted was to get this over with so he could head back to the motel for a nice long shower.

“Killjoy!” Dean called back, laughing as he turned to swing his machete at another vampire. The resulting spray drenched him but he just laughed some more, completely in his element. Underneath all the blood and grime covering him his skin was flushed with exertion yet he felt lighter than he had in quite a while.

By the time all of the vampires were finally dead and the remains had been properly disposed of it was late and Sam was utterly exhausted. Even Dean, for all his earlier exuberance appeared to be flagging as they gathered up their weapons and headed back to where they’d left the impala. By the time they had stowed their stuff back into the trunk and had draped towels over the seats (because Dean was damned if he was going to let some vamp blood ruin Baby’s interior) Sam was more than ready to drop. Forget the shower that he desperately needed—the only thing he wanted to see now was a bed.

“Man, when did we start getting so old?” Dean weakly joked as he and his brother both dropped into the impala with matching groans. He didn’t know about Sam but now that the adrenaline was starting to fade Dean found himself feeling stiff and sore in places he hadn’t noticed earlier. For a moment he was content to simply sit there behind Baby’s wheel and let his head flop back against the seat rest before rolling it in Sam’s direction. “Wanna go grab a drink or something?” He asked though his heart really wasn’t in it cause damn if a shower and a couple hours of sleep didn’t sound more appealing right now but he had a reputation to maintain here after all.

Sam simply grunted in response, the sound low and deep from his throat. He had slumped down the best he could in the towel covered seat; with his eyes closed it was easy to see the exhaustion lining his face and that was more than enough of an answer in Dean’s book. “I feel ya dude.” He said, mustering up the energy to reach over and lightly pat Sam’s knee before forcing himself to straighten up so he could drive. “Let’s head home, yeah?”

 

~

 

It’s nearly dawn by the time they’re within spitting distance of the bunker again and Dean can’t help but breathe a quiet sigh of relief. Beside him Sam is slumped in the passenger seat sound asleep, his head resting against the window, and Dean can fully relate. It had been a long drive back and while by mutual agreement (or what would have been mutual if he hadn’t had to wake the Sasquatch for it) they had cleaned up the best they could in a highway rest stop he still felt grungy and disgusting on top of being totally wiped. With the thoughts of a long hot shower and a longer sleep, and not necessarily in that order, in mind Dean slowly guides the impala back into the garage.

Ten minutes later finds Dean slowly following a still half-asleep Sam out of the garage only to run head-first into Cas, who clearly had to be waiting for them, in the hallway. “Hey man,” He greets, a tired smile slipping out at seeing the angel. It seems that Cas has listened for once—he still looks way too tired and pale but overall he seems to be a little better if Dean’s anyone to judge. “You’re looking better.”

“Dean. Sam. I’m glad to see you’ve made it back in one piece.” Cas sounds reasonably happy too, his mouth quirking up in a quick smile that falters a bit when Sam brushes past the two of them without acknowledgment, his eyes glazed as he mumbles something about properly washing all the blood out of his hair.

Leave it to Sammy to sound like a girl even when half asleep, Dean thinks with a fond shake of his head as he watches his brother’s form retreat down the hall towards the showers. While he’s desperately in need of a good shower himself there’s at least a dozen quips on the back of his tongue to tease Sam about…all of which he’s going to let slide…for now. In retrospect it’s probably a good thing he lets Sam go for Dean finds his attention swiftly diverted by the impossible feel of surprisingly soft lips brushing gently against one cheek.

For a moment Dean’s, well, stunned because what the actual hell? Part of his brain has clearly short-circuited somewhere along the line because all he can think of is that it’s a good thing he’d taken the time to scrub the blood off his face earlier and it’s gotta be about the stupidest damn thing Dean’s ever thought of but he’s starting to freak out here and he can’t seem to find the willpower to make himself stop. He does finally manage a single step backwards from the angel, nervous laughter bubbling up in his throat as he brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Cas.. Man…” Dean splutters, pretty damn sure his face is growing as red as the blood that’s still drying over the rest of him. “What was that for?”

Instead of giving an answer—and really Dean should have seen that coming considering this is Cas of all people—the angel simply squints at him and cocks his head off to the side like he’s completely puzzled as to why Dean would be embarrassed in the first place. It’s an old trait of the angel’s, but he hasn’t done it in so long that seeing it now is doing odd things to Dean’s insides and it really isn’t helping him feel any better about the situation.

It doesn’t help either when the stare-off starts heading into minutes long territory without either one of them saying a word and predictably Dean’s the one who starts caving first because seriously: what the actual hell is happening here? No matter how many years they’ve been doing this there’s just something absolutely unnerving about how completely and utterly still Cas can get when he wants too and just like clockwork Dean finds himself starting to squirm under that intense gaze. “Cas?” He asks, a touch of concern overlaying his voice despite himself.

The sound of his voice seems to break the spell Castiel’s unwillingly put himself into: all at once he straightens up and blinks, shaking his head like he’s surfacing from a dream. “Dean.” He says, his voice sounding odd as he eyes the hunter over. “I apologize—you were saying something?”

“I—You—What?” Apparently Dean’s pretty good at this whole spluttering like a dumbstruck teenager because _**seriously**_? How the hell Castiel manages to do that—feign nonchalance when he knows he’s slowly driving Dean insane will never fail to make him feel like he wants to tear his hair out by the roots. Thankfully the tacky drying blood in his hair has stilled the urge to follow through on that idea, but it doesn’t stop Dean’s hands from clenching into fists at his side. “Are you freaking kidding me?” He spits out, his temper starting to rise. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what’s going on here! You! You—“ He splutters before flailing to a stop, unable to force the words out, instead resorting to gesturing awkwardly between them.

It takes a moment in which Cas seems to be mentally deciphering Dean’s gestures along with his words but when it finally sinks in the realization dawns on his face like a flower blossoming in the sun. “Ah,” the angel starts, looking excitedly at Dean like whatever he was about to say was going to make everything better. “Gabriel once told me that kissing was an acceptable show of affection amongst humans to prove their love to one another. I have witnessed the act many times before but I never had a chance to do so myself as angels are not naturally built for that kind of affect---“

“Whoa! Whoa, just stop right there.” Dean cuts across him with one hand raised like it’ll stop the words falling from Castiel’s mouth. Whatever the hell the angel’s talking about here, Dean doesn’t have a clue but he caught Gabriel’s name in the mix there and if he knows one thing it’s that the Trickster always, always means trouble. Still, archangel or not, this has got to take the cake for pranks if that’s what this is, even for Gabriel. “Uhh, Cas?” Dean hedges, completely unsure if he wants to hear the answer to this or not, especially considering the thought that Gabriel could be behind it somewhere. “What are you trying to get at man? I’m not sure I understand.”

At his words Castiel visibly blanches and shrinks back, all earlier excitement visibly draining leaving him looking like a puppy that’s been kicked as he eyes Dean worriedly. “I-I’m sorry Dean.” He says, tone devoid of all previous joy as he turns away to look at the wall instead of Dean’s face. “I had thought, foolishly it seems, that you had perhaps felt the same way as me. It appears that I was wrong.”

As if the day couldn’t get stranger… It’s Dean’s turn to be quiet and he swallows hard against the sudden lump that’s formed in his throat as he processes Cas’ words, putting two and two together. He…He doesn’t have a damned clue what to do with this and he can’t help looking up, eyes searching the empty hallway leading towards the showers in the vain hope that Sam had somehow stuck around because if there was ever a time for backup, it’s now. The hallway remains empty, however, which means Dean’s on his own here like it or not. He groans mentally to himself as he turns back, eyeing the tense set of Cas’ shoulders warily. _How can he feel that way about me?_ It’s just the tip of the metaphorical iceberg of things that Dean wants to shout out loud until he gets answers but the only thing that manages to leave his mouth is a croaky: “Cas?”

For a beat there’s nothing but silence and the very distant sounds of running water from down the hall before Cas’ shoulders slump and he turns his head just enough to regard Dean out of the corner of one eye. “Yes Dean?”

Shit, he has absolutely zero idea of what he’s doing here, or hell even what he’s going to say, and Dean finds himself swallowing hard again as he flounders. “You, uh…” He starts before abruptly stopping again and he can feel the heat starting to rise in his cheeks because he’s being such a girl but he just can’t seem to manage to stop. “You, ah, you feel that way about me?” He finally manages to get out in a rush, face fully inflamed.

“Yes I do.” Dean may be a hesitant, floundering mess right now but there’s no hesitance in Cas’ voice nor in the way he turns fully around to level that piercing stare of his on Dean once more. “I am sorry if this revelation has upset you Dean but I felt I could no longer keep my feelings to myself.”

Relief and shock are two twin currents of electricity running across Dean’s skin in tingling waves and for a moment Dean finds himself unable to breathe. His mind is a blank—he doesn’t know what to think, what to feel, what to do. How is this possible? How could an angel love _him_? He certainly doesn’t deserve it—just look at his life so far! He’s been to Hell (and Cas knows that better than anyone), he’s killed, been a demon…and Cas _loves_ him? Dean just…He just can’t deal with this right now. “I—I— _Jesus_ Cas!” He stumbles and stammers, so rattled he can’t get a full sentence out because he’s fairly sure his brain is completely short-circuiting.

“Dean.” Cas says, voice firm, and the undercurrent of concern almost makes Dean come undone more so than he already has. As it is he startles badly at the feel of warm hands resting gently on his shoulders—and when had Cas even moved?—“Dean, look at me.” Cas commands in his former I’m-an-angel-I-mean-business-way and if nothing else the tone is effective in getting the angel what he wants.

Well, sort of. With the way Dean’s all tensed up the demand seems nigh on impossible and not just because his head feels like there’s a thirty-ton weight attached to it either. What right does he have to look Cas in the eye now knowing what he does? Like everything else since this bizarre conversation started, Dean just…can’t. There’s a distant part of his mind yelling at him to suck it up because it’s not like this is a life or death situation and that’s unlikely to change if he man’s up and looks at Castiel like he’s been bidden but screw it. Dean isn’t worthy of that look, isn’t worthy to have that heavy soul-searing gaze looking upon him and he resolutely keeps his eyes firmly turned away.

Thankfully Cas isn’t having any of it: before Dean can dig himself any further into his self-loathing the angel reaches out to grasp Dean’s chin and gently tilts his head up until their eyes are, if somewhat still unwillingly on Dean’s part, meeting. “Now you will listen to me, Dean Winchester.” Cas starts, and despite the gentle grip he has on Dean’s face, his words are firm with an undercurrent of steel to back them up. “I did not say what I did to intentionally upset you, nor did I say them because someone forced me to do so, no matter what you may think otherwise. I said them because I meant every word and nothing you can do, or have done, will ever sway me from this. Am I making myself clear?”

Effectively trapped by the angel’s hand, Dean had little choice but to comply with Cas’ wishes as he slowly raised his eyes to meet the blue ones that were intently staring at him. It wasn’t uncommon for him to feel small under the angel’s gaze, though hell if he would ever admit to such, but now he had the distinct impression of feeling pathetic on the top of it because Cas didn’t look mad or even perturbed. If anything the angel looked relieved to have Dean looking back at him and that only served to make Dean feel even more awkward about the whole thing. He got what Cas was saying—it was pretty hard not to considering their faces were mere inches apart—but Dean still couldn’t believe the angel could say he loved him with such ease. Castiel had pulled him from Hell, after all, so surely he could see Dean wasn’t worth such a thing? He was just a man; and a broken, beaten down one that had seen far, far too much. How could that ever compare to an angel that had been created to love God himself? The idea was laughable and Dean found himself unable to tamper down the hysterical little chuckles that escaped him.

Needless to say, Castiel doesn’t share Dean’s apparent amusement. As much as he tries not to read Dean’s mind he doesn’t need to in the moment to correctly guess the way the human’s thoughts have gone. The look of self-disgust on Dean’s face says enough on its own. A soft sigh escapes him as the fingers still holding onto Dean tighten slightly, just enough to ensure that Dean focuses his attention back on him rather than himself. “How many times must I say it before you’ll actually stop and listen to me?” Cas murmurs, unable to tamp down on the frustration building inside him. “Dean, I do not care about what you did in Hell nor when you were a demon under the Mark’s curse nor about any of the other hundreds of petty things that are going through your mind right now. I meant what I said: I love **YOU** , you foolishly stubborn man and there is absolutely nothing, and I mean nothing that will sway my stance on this no matter what you may think.” And just in case the words still weren’t enough to get through Dean’s thick head he leaned in and punctuated them with another gentle press of his lips against the hunter’s.

This was a surreal dream; it had to be. Dean tried to rationalize though the attempt fell flat as he found himself relaxing into the kiss. Aside from the slightly rough feel of Cas’ lips, and Dean really needed to have Sam introduce the guy to some chap stick or something, it wasn’t that different from the other kisses Dean had experienced before, and holy hell was he actually _enjoying_ it? He hadn’t pulled away yet so that had to count for something, right? Maybe? That, combined with the weight of Castiel’s words were doing funny things to Dean’s chest—what had started out as a lump lodged in his throat was now beginning to feel like a warm gooey ball of light and if that wasn’t the most fucked up thing Dean had ever thought in his life he didn’t know what was.

Cas must have noticed the change in him, must have felt how the tension was starting to bleed out of the man’s limbs because he pulled back with a barely concealed smirk that he had to have learned from Dean himself and smugly said: “Well?”

That did it—the sight of the angel wearing that shit-eating look on his face was the straw that broke the camel’s back—and Dean just couldn’t take it anymore. Laughter bubbled up in his chest and once it spilled out he just couldn’t stop. He laughed and laughed until he was practically gasping for breath. “J-Jeez man!” Dean wheezed, pulling out of the angel’s grip to bend over, clutching his stomach as he cackled. “You t-trying to kill me or what?”

Humans were strange creatures to court, Castiel thought as he watched the display, head tilting in curiosity. First Dean had seemed so afraid of the affection he so clearly wanted to shower upon him but now he was laughing so hard he could barely stand! Castiel honestly didn’t know what to do with it. “I would never try to kill you Dean.” He replied honestly, internally wincing at the unspoken ‘on purpose’ that hung in the air between them. The damage they had wrought against one another was not something they spoke about and why Dean would bring it up during a time of such mirth just went to confuse Castiel even more!

Luckily the angel was saved by the bell, or rather saved by the Sasquatch, as the sounds of a door slamming down the hallway echoed over their moment of hilarity. Footsteps followed a moment later and then there came Sam himself, clad in sleep pants and a t-shirt and rubbing his hair dry with a towel. He stopped before he reached the two, eyebrows arching on his forehead as he looked between Dean and Cas. “Hey guys, what’d I miss?”

Leave it to Sam to interrupt things! Where was he a few minutes ago when Dean needed him?! Frankly in the moment Dean didn’t know whether to hug his brother or kick his ass. Luckily (for Sam) Dean settled on neither, taking the opportunity to try to catch his breath instead. “You-You didn’t miss nothing!” He exhaled wheezily, suddenly grateful that the round of laughter would hide the fact that his face was still beet-red.

“We were merely conversing.” Castiel chimed in alongside Dean, casting a furtive side-eye at the man. He didn’t see the harm in sharing what had transpired between the two of them but since Dean appeared to be apprehensive over it he would refrain, for now. “Did you need something Sam?” He turned, locking eyes with the younger man.

Sam was many things but an idiot wasn’t one of them—something was definitely up between the angel and his brother, that much was obvious in how red Dean’s face was and the looks Cas was giving him. The temptation to tease the hell out of the both of them until someone cracked, namely Dean, was strong but as he kept looking between the two Sam wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to know in the first place. Considering this was Cas and Dean anything was possible and there were just some things Sam didn’t need to know about his brother or his brother’s angel. Shooting a last, speculating look between them, Sam cleared his throat and shrugged. “I just came to tell ya the showers are free. You look like you could use one!” He directed at Dean because if nothing else his brother still looked like day-old roadkill.

Well, now that he mentioned it Dean did feel gross. The blood had finally dried and was now tacky and stiff…and would probably be a bitch to wash out at best. That wasn’t saying anything of the smell, and how Castiel had managed to stomach it enough to kiss Dean not only once, but twice, was mind-boggling. In short Dean desperately needed the shower and it gave him the chance to escape at the same time. He made the effort to straighten up, bringing a hand up to idly rub at a smear of dried blood on the back of his neck as he forced out a chuckle. “Yeah. Thanks for letting me know.” Careful to avoid meeting Castiel’s eyes he edged around the angel and his brother towards the hallway. “I’m just gonna go.” He pointed before belting down the hall with as much dignity as one could muster while they were practically fleeing.

While he agreed that Dean needed the shower; the smell had been quite off-putting, not that Castiel was going to tell the man so, the angel couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at watching Dean retreat down the hall away from him. Things between them still weren’t resolved but it wouldn’t be hard to corner Dean, and if nothing else Castiel was patient. He had waited this long, he was fully willing to wait as long as necessary. One way or the other Dean would come around and would accept the love he so freely ached to give him.

 


End file.
